Todd's Suicide
by HikaViBritannia
Summary: Squee. Todd. Nny. Suicide. What more can I say?


Todd stared out his window. He didn't see anything outside for him to live for. The clouds didn't care about him. The sun didn't care about him. Both of them would continue to rise in the sky despite his existence. He felt a lump form in his throat as he continued to count the dots of fluff in the sky. He shifted his feet, and shifted his eyes to the ceiling. White. It had never been painted. It had never been offered to be painted. No one painted in his house. No one lived in his house. He hated it. He hated living here, in this colorless world.

He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging slightly, and staring past the clouds, and the sun, and everything about the world he didn't see much point in living in. He replayed the words from today over in his head. In all reality, what people said was true. He was gay. He was a wimp. He didn't like to fight. He didn't like to do anything confrontational. It made his insides swirl somewhere between nausea and despair. He did have shitty, low-life parents. He did write more than he talked to people. He was too skinny. He did look, talk, and act like a faggot, because he was one, and he didn't see much of a point in hiding who he was.

He shifted away from the window, clutching at his bed in desperation. He opened the window, and looked to the next-door house. He swung himself outside, and landed with a thud on the ground. He tried to open the front door. Locked. The lump grew larger in his throat. The man had told him earlier to just come through the back door if the front was locked. He tried to make himself stop panicking, and moved to the back door, opening it, and sliding inside. He called for the man, and heard nothing. He might just be out getting a brain freezy, but his paranoia pushed him forward. He looked in his room, and saw his bed, still there. His heart rate lowered. Just a brain freezy. Just a brain freezy... He moved to the room with his paintings, and the last two he'd done with Todd being here were gone.

He'd left. There wasn't much time left for reasonable explanations. He shut the door, and ran back to his house, scrambling back into his room, and shutting his door. He had a knife. He was ready to end this. No one cared. Johnny had left him, his parents had never cared, no one at school would miss the too-skinny gay loser either. He held back the tears, but the sobs broke their way through, as if his lips were the damn, and the salty mess a river, it flowed down his face, and onto the ground. He couldn't control himself.

He slit a thin line of quickly overflowing red. Another. He curled into himself on the floor, and sobbed more, his throat dry, and sore, his eyes red and puffy, the man's shirt soaked with tears. His blood was running all over the floor, and the knife had fallen with a clatter to the ground. He covered his mouth to stifle the cries. He wanted to die. He didn't see a reason to be here anymore. He hated living where no one returned his love. He'd thought he'd won Johnny's love, he'd thought he finally was loved by someone, but then he just... he just packed up, and left. Brad had read his poem out loud. That had contained personal things. Things he hadn't even shared with who it'd been about. Everyone knew... Everyone knew everything.

Finally, from the bleeding, and the crying, and the pure exhaustion of the whole day weighing in on his shoulders, he passed out. He fell into a deep sleep, almost comatose, until he was shaken awake by a familiar, hysterical voice.

"Don't you leave me!", the voice called, and a hand slapped across his face,"You can't leave me... I can't lose you, Squee-gee."

Suddenly hysterical, feeling a needle sew his arm, he panicked, and gripped his free hand to any part of the man he could reach, trying to pull in his hallucination, and never let him go,"You left me! You left me! You left me!"

"I went to go sell my paintings..."

"You left me! I thought you left me forever!", the stitches were done, and he buried his face against the man.

"I was going to ask you to move in with me, but you don't have a choice now. You're moving in immediately. Come on.", and with that being said, he gathered him in his arms, and carried him next door.


End file.
